


The son of the breeder of bulls.

by RosadelValle



Series: Heart of darkness [6]
Category: Dead men tell no tales, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Bullfighting, Salazar is so cool and aesthetic, Salazar lore, cante jondo, check it, exploring the dark side, it's beatiful, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosadelValle/pseuds/RosadelValle
Summary: The most incredible thing was that Armando tried to fight it not on horseback like a nobleman, but on foot like a peasant.His father the admiral didn’t stop him.
Series: Heart of darkness [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1357984
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

The Salazar family used to breed fighting bulls: magnificent beasts that seemed to be made of marble and velvet, fiery and aggressive. The cattle that roamed in the pastures surrounding the imposing villa truly was an impressive sight, and the guests that often visited the estate loved to stroll around the meadows, watching admiringly such handsome animals.

But on one day of summer, one of those golden days kissed by the reddish light of incoming fall, the admiral’s youngest son Armando offered them another, even more spectacular, show: he fought a bull. The boy jumped into the arena to face an equally young animal, taken there by the farmers to be trained. The most incredible thing was that Armando tried to fight it not on horseback like a nobleman, but on foot like a peasant. 

His father the admiral didn’t stop him and prevented anyone from doing so, just shooting the bull when it charged his son in a way he wouldn’t have been able to fight back.

That’s how much they loved each other.

When the pirates killed the admiral, a part of Armando died with him: the part of him that knew evil but still thought the world was overall a noble and safe place. He broke off his engagement with the woman his oldest brother had chosen for him, a chubby, shy girl he would go on to forget in a couple of weeks. He stopped going to balls, theatre plays, concerts. Minuet and waltz faded from his life, replaced by the melancholia of the cante jondo. Armando stopped being a spoiled dandy that considered his military career merely a facade and became a real soldier. He still had enough of the boy who tried to fight a bull in him to succeed: the little matador became el Matador del Mar. The time for games was over and the season of the slaughter had begun. 


	2. The son of a Grandee of Spain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years of sailing, dozens of fights and hundreds of hours of watchful waiting couldn’t even out their differences. Lesaro was the son of a small trader: rich enough to be an officer but not enough to stand out from the crew, with whom he still shared most of the mannerism and language. Salazar, their Captain, was another thing entirely

_ "Sic transit gloria mundi“ _

That’s what the captain said when yet another pirate ship went down in flames before their eyes. A brief, cocky smile and a touch of cruel irony encased in a latin motto: that’s how their Captain celebrated his victories. The crew feasted more conventionally on dry land, drinking and whoring, but the Captain never joined them once. He allowed his men to enjoy those moments of controlled chaos because he knew very well that soldiers need to release the pent up tension from the battle, but didn’t partake in it. What he did or where he went, Lesaro did not know. He had been working with his Captain for a long time and by now they were almost synchronized: Salazar just had to look at him in a certain way or mutter a word or two to give him complex orders, and he followed them impeccably most of the times. He knew the Captain like the back of his hands but as for the man behind the uniform… Armando was still an unexplored land. 

Years of sailing, dozens of fights and hundreds of hours of watchful waiting couldn’t even out their differences. Lesaro was the son of a small trader: rich enough to be an officer but not enough to stand out from the crew, with whom he still shared most of the mannerism and language. Salazar, their Captain, was another thing entirely. His father had been an admiral of almost sulphurous fame and their country estate and fighting bulls breeding were renowned in all the Kingdom, he truly was the son of a Grandee of Spain. And he spoke and carried himself like one, majestic and mighty. Even all that anger and his life on the sea couldn’t erase the marks of privilege: the elegant walking cane, the words and expressions in other language he dropped here and there, and he fenced like someone who learnt how to fight as a kid, trained by the best teachers in Europe. 

Serving under such a man was both an honour and a burden, for one couldn’t help but admire and love him, but at the same time he remained there… distant and unattainable. 


	3. The story of a name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Salazar became el Matador del Mar.

The two captains standing face to face were a sight to behold: the tall, elegant and imposing Salazar and the short, stocky Malley the Monkey. The soldier and the pirate: it would have been comical hadn’t it been tragic. The pirate was the last surviving member of his crew and Salazar had ordered them to bring him on the María Silente alive. Normally he would have slaughtered him with his companions, since he had clearly no interest in what a pirate could think or say, but this time was different. The problem was that a young captain, a nephew of the king’s advisor, had been kidnapped by pirates and the war ministry wanted to know where he was (and especially where the ship was, since it was an expensive thing, new and fully equipped with the best weapons).

Lesaro had been the one leading the interrogation: years of command, years of hard work disciplining a crew of young and belligerent soldiers had taught him how to handle a reluctant motherfucker. Malley the Monkey was a tough guy but Lesaro was tougher, and he just had to rough him up a bit before he started singing like a bird: the young captain was long dead and his crew disbanded, the pirates killed some, other became pirates themselves and some others just ran away and disappeared. As for the ship… well, it was now flying the black flag somewhere toward Brazil.  Salazar, that hadn’t said a word until then, just muttered him to kill the pirate. The interrogation may have been a success but it was nothing the Captain wasn’t expecting or already knew and now he just wanted to go back to Madrid and inform the war ministry as soon as possible, so to be free to hunt pirates again. But as Lesaro prepared to send Malley the Monkey back to his Maker, the pirate did something unexpected: he stood up and spat Salazar in the face, trying to punch him. 

The Captain’s reaction was immediate: he charged the angry pirate head-on with a growl and stabbed him through the chest with a single, powerful blow. Malley the Monkey had been a strong son of a bitch but this time he didn’t even had the time to bat an eye and just dropped dead with his stomach slashed. Nobody said a word and Salazar calmly retreated to his quarters as he always did after a battle, only to resurface for dinner wearing a pristine uniform. Unbothered. Untouched. Unattainable as usual. 

But the word spread and soon the tale of the fearless captain that butchered a pirate like a bull became famous amongst the soldiers of the Armada. And this is how Salazar got his other name: el Matador del Mar. 


End file.
